


House Call

by terma_archivist



Category: Once a Thief (TV), Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-01
Updated: 2002-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: Vic gets hurt. Dr. Dave to the rescue. Mac pouts
Relationships: David Cameron (Queer as Folk)/Victor Mansfield
Collections: TER/MA





	House Call

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> Huge thank you to Teri and Sue for the brilliant beta job and to Em, Shael and Jami for comments and encouragement—love to all of you.

  
**House Call  
by Jennie and Jamie Joyce**

  
My mouth dropped open when he walked into the treatment room. 

_Oh. My. God._

The man was drop dead gorgeous! If it weren't for the patient file he held in his hand, I'd suspect he was a GQ model who'd taken a wrong turn. I barely kept myself from drooling as I took in the tall, handsome specimen standing not ten feet away. What a body the man had...broad shoulders, slim waist, and narrow hips. The classic inverted triangle we all try so hard to develop yet so few attain. Allowing my wandering eyes to drift lower, I noticed legs that went on for miles, a pair of legs to die for... legs I could easily imagine wrapped around my waist. 

I've always had a thing for legs and, in my educated estimation, this man had to be a runner. His well-muscled thighs almost strained the fabric of his sage-green Chinos without being overly bulky, a sure sign that his physique wasn't developed only through pumping iron. For a second I let myself envy the cotton fabric that was hugging his legs—and other attributes—so lovingly. Maybe in my next life I could come back as a pair of Dockers. 

Realizing where my gaze was lingering, and had been for several seconds, I guiltily forced my eyes north of his neck and hoped he hadn't noticed my distraction. 

Fortunately, the good doctor was just looking up from his study of the paperwork I'd completed in the outer office. Though I felt like I'd been gawking at this incredible looking man for hours, it had apparently only been a few seconds. 

I was here today on my partner's recommendation and to say I'd been reluctant to follow Mac's advice would be a major understatement; doctor's just aren't my thing. But after the initial discomfort and embarrassment of my fall over a homicidal hedgerow, my pain and stiffness just continued to get worse. Mac's hysterical laughter over my clumsiness had been bad enough at the time of the spill, but as my gait deteriorated into that of an old man and it became impossible to turn my head to either the right or the left, he only seemed to find the situation more amusing. Smart-ass son of a bitch. Somewhere along the line I appeared to have become the main source of amusement in his pathetic life. 

One of these days I was going to lose control and kill the aggravating bastard. 

At any rate, we had to finish our current assignment and I was worse than useless in my debilitated condition. So, when Mac had made me an appointment with this chiropractor—a friend of a friend he'd said—I'd had no choice but to agree. I did, however, file away for future contemplation the idea of Mac having friends in Pittsburgh. 

I'd deeply resented Mac's know-it-all attitude when he'd insisted I get treatment. Now, considering my doctor, I was seriously considering canonizing the little shit. 

For no legitimate reason, I was feeling better already. Course, it could have had something to do with testosterone levels and the visions of the good doctor—naked and willing—that were dancing in my lust-addled brain. 

I suddenly realized he had completed his review of my paperwork. That h was looking at me expectantly and had apparently spoken. And I had absolutely no idea what he'd said. 

"Huh?" I responded dazedly. _Way to go, Mansfield. Dazzle him with brilliant conversation._

"Vic Mansfield?" he asked, a slightly amused tone in his voice at my inattention. 

"Oh, yeah. That's me." Another brilliant statement. I blinked, gave myself a mental shake, and did my best to concentrate on the here and now. Maybe a little distraction was in order. I had to get myself into the right frame of mind. Studiously, I turned my attention to the framed diplomas decorating the walls. 

_See, look at all those degrees. This man is a well-educated health care professional, Mansfield, not some cheap bar pickup. Now, get your head out of your ass, your mind out of the gutter, and get into the game._

"I'm David Cameron." His tone, as he introduced himself, was depressingly professional and business-like. "I've read through the questionnaire you filled out, but why don't you explain to me what the problem is, Mr. Mansfield." 

I swallowed, trying to get some moisture into a suddenly dry mouth, and quashed the evil little voice that seemed to be whispering in my ear. A part of me I wasn't proud of wondered how he'd react if I told him the problem was I desperately wanted to drop my pants and bend over the low table so he could fuck me into next week. 

_Shit, shit, shit! I am in serious trouble here._

Since 'joining' the Agency I'd assiduously avoided the part of myself that lusted after men. No need to give the Director more blackmail material and yet another hold over me. And then there was Li Ann. What we'd had was special and I'd actually convinced myself that my days of cruising men were over—that this one woman could satisfy me in all ways. 

Apparently I'd been wrong. Silly me. 

The good Doctor Cameron had brought it all crashing back in full sensory detail: that unimaginably satisfying sensation of giving in to a man, being fucked... the smell and feel of a man's sweaty hardness. 

Lord, I realized in that instant, I'd really missed those feelings. 

With real effort, I gathered my wayward thoughts—which had yet again wandered off in directions best not considered too closely—and somehow managed to describe my embarrassing fall and the resulting pain. 

He nodded sympathetically and turned to face the wall. With a flip of a switch, he turned on the lightbox and tucked the series of x-rays his technician had taken under the clips. "Hmmm," he murmured, studying the films. Picking up a grease pencil, he then proceeded to explain in great detail just what the problem was, circling the affected areas with said pencil. 

Unfortunately, the second the doctor turned his back on me, my traitorous eyes began to wander again. Hungrily, my gaze was caressing his broad shoulders and drifting down to inspect his ass. It was as excellent as the rest of his delectable body had led me to expect. The soft cotton fabric was just snug enough to make you certain that the globes of asscheek they camouflaged were firm and taut, yet loose enough to leave that slight, tantalizing uncertainty. My fingers itched to reach out and stroke Dr. Cameron's fine ass, to assess each curve and the valley between for myself. The fact that I'd only have to stretch my arms a short distance to make contact made the temptation almost too much to resist. 

He cleared his throat and I came to attention with a jolt, realizing that he'd finished speaking and was waiting for me to respond in some way. Face flaming with a combination of embarrassment and arousal, I nodded knowingly and gazed at the x-rays as if they meant something to me. 

"So, can you fix me, Doc?" I questioned, trying for nonchalance. 

This time the grin that broke over his face was accompanied by a mischievous twinkle. "Well, I'm not that sort of doctor and it seems like that would be a real waste...." 

There was a long pause, like he was waiting for me to say something and I'd missed my cue. I was still trying to get my sluggish brain to catch up when he gave a slight dismissive shake of his head and moved around to the opposite side of the exam table. "Shouldn't be a problem. Take off your shirt and lay face down on the table." 

_Take off your shirt?!_

Too much. It was just too much. There was no way I could do this. Suddenly, the air was thick and heavy and I couldn't breathe. "This was a mistake, Dr. Cameron," I said breathlessly. "I've got to go. Sorry to have waste your time." I picked up my jacket and gingerly slipped it on. 

The wince I couldn't suppress didn't go unnoticed, and he frowned at me. 

Damn. "Listen, charge my insurance for whatever... I'm really sorry." 

Eyes averted from him, ignoring the inner voice that was shrieking I was a chicken, I opened the door, preparing to dart from the room. 

"Hey," he said, clearly startled by my swift and sudden retreat. 

"Gotta go," I managed to choke out as I practically ran from the room. 

Later that afternoon I lay on the bed in my hotel room, still suffering agonies of humiliation over my earlier lack of self-control. It seemed appropriate. They went with the physical agonies my neck and back were still causing me. 

I frowned in surprise when someone knocked at the door. Who the hell could that be? Mac would just use the unlocked door that connected our rooms and I hadn't ordered anything from room service. I eased myself carefully from the bed and moved stiffly across the room to peer through the peep hole. 

The jolt of shock was like that sensation you get as you start over the first hill of a rollercoaster—I was sure my stomach was now firmly lodged in my throat. Dr. David Cameron. What the hell was he doing here? 

Taking a deep breath, I risked a second look through the door. Nope, hadn't changed. Dr. Dave still stood in the hall, staring expectantly at my closed door. And he didn't show any signs of giving up and going away. 

Instantly, I flashed on those legs, that ass, those Chinos. 

_God!_ I rested my forehead against the door for a moment, attempting to pull myself together before actually facing him. 

* * *

_Well, Dave, you've reached a new all-time low._

Following a patient back to his residence wasn't just unusual, it bordered on unethical. As hard as I tried to convince myself I was here only for the patient's welfare, I couldn't shake the mental image of those huge cat-green eyes. They'd looked up at me through a forest of black lashes, staring with the fixed intensity of a child studying the selection of sweets at a candy shop. In fact, those very eyes had been in the forefront of my mind as I'd stealthily copied down his hotel's address from the paperwork he'd filled out in the office earlier in the day. 

The impact of those eyes had been incredible. In fact, they'd gone straight to my groin, making the cool professional façade harder than usual to maintain. It wasn't the first time I'd been attracted to a patient, but this man, this Vic Mansfield, had something special. Knowing I should turn around now and get the hell out of here, I raised my hand to knock again on the door just as it opened. 

* * *

Opening the hotel room door, I stared at my visitor in silence for a beat. 

"Hi," I finally offered awkwardly. "What can I do for you?" 

He shrugged, obviously less than one hundred percent comfortable himself. "I was a little worried about the way you took off earlier—just thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing." 

Oh. A chiropractor that made house calls. How novel. 

Belatedly, I stepped back, indicating that he should enter the room. He walked past me. My attention was momentarily diverted by the small backpack he slung off of his shoulder and dropped onto the table near the door. I started to ask about it, but that train of thought was instantly derailed when he turned back to watch me shuffle back to the bed. I know my color rose as he observed my pained movement. 

_Dammit_

"Excuse the mess," I quipped, tugging at the hopelessly rumpled bedspread. "It's the maid's afternoon off." Giving up on straightening the bed, I lowered myself gingerly to sit on the edge. Stretching out an arm with a small grunt of pain, I snagged the TV remote and muted the talking heads on CNN. 

"Not feeling any better, huh?" 

Considering the way I was moving, I couldn't deny it. "Not really." The reluctance in my tone was there for all to hear. 

He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "So, if you're still in pain and I can help you with that why did you run out of my office like the place was on fire? Are you that afraid of doctors?" 

"No. No, that wasn't it." I found I couldn't hold eye contact with this man. I was too embarrassed, too shamed by my inability to control my reaction to him. And that intense, focused gaze seemed to see too much. 

"Was it me? Did I do or say something to make you uncomfortable?" 

Shit. The last thing I wanted to do was make him think I questioned his professional abilities or ethics. 

"Um... well, yes and no, actually," I finally admitted in a low voice, seeing that he wasn't going to go away until he had some kind of an answer. 

* * *

Well, that was an interesting response. I'd only spent five minutes with the guy and had never actually laid a hand on him. What could I have done in that amount of time to spook him this badly? 

"Hmmm," I murmured. Frowning in confusion, I asked the obvious question. "Should I refer you to another chiropractor? Would that solve the problem?" 

"Um, no. That's not necessary. It'll get better eventually." His reply was mumbled and he was staring fixedly into the middle distance. 

Damn it, this wasn't right. The man was clearly still in pain and, because of his unwillingness to let me help, was suffering unnecessarily. 

Crossing my arms over my chest, I tried to keep my growing annoyance out of my voice. "That's no solution," I stated firmly. "You've admitted yourself that you can't continue on like this. You won't let me help but you don't want a referral to another doctor." I sighed heavily, thinking this was one of the most aggravating men I'd ever run across. "What the hell is the problem?" 

* * *

The only course of action open at this point appeared to be the truth. Damn. I hated it when that happened. 

"I... You ...." Sighing, I did my best to gather my scattered thoughts. "The thing is, doc, I'm really not comfortable with you touching me." I couldn't say this and not look the man in the face, so I carefully tipped my head, looking up. I was just in time to see a flash of hurt cross the most expressive hazel eyes I'd ever seen. 

"I... I see," he managed. 

"No, doc, I don't think you do. The reason I can't deal with you touching me is—" This was every bit as hard as I'd expected. "The reason is, that is, I've found I'm very... attracted to you." 

His expression of relief was almost comical. "Is that all?" 

Now it was my turn to be surprised. That wasn't the reaction I'd been expecting. 

"It's not that big of a deal," he hurried to reassure me. "If it makes you feel any better, you aren't the first patient to have this problem." His chuckle was little more than a soft huff of air. "Though you did probably have the most unique reaction I've ever run across." 

Damn. I could feel my cheeks flush with increased embarrassment at his comment. 

"It is a big deal," I insisted. "It was totally inappropriate. You're a doctor trying to help me and I was looking at you like you were a slab of rare roast beef and I hadn't eaten in weeks. And it's not like I make a habit of lusting after men I've just met. Not these days, anyway. I've been pretty much exclusively straight recently. In my line of work, it's not ... um, exactly safe to be bisexual." 

"And your line of work would be what?" 

I shook my head as best I could. "Sorry, I can't go into specifics. If I told you, I'd have to kill you," I joked. "Let's just say blackmail is a real concern. And the barracuda who masquerades as my boss—well, I don't want to give her any more ammunition to use against me." 

He frowned, obviously not sure how to take those comments. Finally, he nodded and said, "I know it's hard in some work environments to let your true sexual orientation be known. That's one of the reasons I'm glad I have my own practice. If people don't like who I am, they can just go somewhere else." 

He stared at me assessingly for another moment, then, clearly having reached a decision, said, "Listen, it's foolish to suffer when you don't have to. Now that you've told me the problem, why don't you just let me have a quick look, see if there isn't anything I can do to relieve your pain." 

When I continued to hesitate, he sighed and added, "Look, you haven't offended me. It doesn't bother me that you find me attractive. The truth is, I'm gay myself and the fact that you're an extremely attractive man was probably the first thing I noticed about you. But it doesn't have to mean anything. If you want to ignore the part of yourself that wants to be with men, I can respect that choice. I certainly won't try to push you into anything." 

There was a traitorous ache in my gut that was wishing he would. _Oh, hell, doc—push me. Please push me._ Damn, why did he have to be gay? Knowing that men were his sex partners of preference and that this attraction was mutual made the professional distance thing even harder. 

Harder. Double damn. Bad choice of words. 

Reluctantly, I nodded. "Do your worst, Doc. I really can't take much more of this pain. I have a job to do while I'm here and I can't do it in this condition." 

Removing his jacket, Dr. Cameron rolled up his sleeves—revealing strong, well-muscled forearms. Glancing quickly away, I tried to focus my attention elsewhere and listen to what he was saying to me. 

"Okay, Vic—can I call you Vic? I'm Dave, by the way." 

"Sure, Dave," I responded. "Formalities seem a little silly at this point. So... how do you want to do this? Should I lay down on the bed... the floor ... stand up... what?" 

Hearing my own words, I cringed. _God, Mansfield, don't say things like that._

Dave grinned, obviously catching the double meanings and amused at my increased embarrassment. "Take off your shirt and lay face down on the bed for now—- I'll need to give you a short massage first. You have to be somewhat relaxed before I can attempt to adjust your spine." 

Oh man. If the woody in my jeans was anything to judge by, relaxation was not in my immediate future. But the thought of his hands on my body was too tempting to resist. Let the man give it a shot; after all, he was the health care professional. 

I pulled my t-shirt off and moved carefully to lie down as directed. Just then the connecting door burst open and Mac bounded into my room with his usual irrepressible energy. "Hey, Vic," he practically shouted in that annoying voice of his, "how did your visit to the...." 

Belatedly noticing Dave's presence, Mac cut his words off and stared suspiciously at the stranger. 

"Vic?" he asked slowly. "Who's your friend?" 

"Not that it's any of your business, Mac, but this is Dave Cameron—Dr. Dave Cameron. He's the chiropractor you sent me to see this afternoon." My tone a gruff growl, I tried to cover my embarrassment. "Dave, this is my partner, Mac Ramsey." 

They nodded and traded stares, neither man looking particularly pleased to see the other. 

Mac smirked. "Sooo, what? The treatment was so great you brought the doctor home with you for seconds?" 

* * *

The kid—this overly exuberant 'partner' of Vic's—was one major smartass. His comment was incredibly insensitive and clearly added to Vic's embarrassment. I'd barely met the man and I already knew I didn't like him. There was just something so... abrasive about him. And his timing sucked. 

Vic's face turned away—in an attempt to hide his guilty blush, I think. And if his grip on his tee shirt got any tighter, he was gonna rip the damned thing in half. As if suddenly realizing he was naked from the waist up, Vic uncrumpled the shirt, struggling to get it turned the right way around so he could pull it back on. 

Reaching out, I placed a restraining hand on Vic's arm. "Don't bother," I instructed, ignoring the way he flinched when I touched him. "You need to leave it off. I can't work on you through that." 

Vic turned his green gaze on me. Damn the man had gorgeous eyes. He looked guilty and nervous, like he didn't know which way to jump. I couldn't help but wonder just what was up between these two. The kid—Ramsey—had an awfully possessive expression on his pouty face. And Vic seemed far too concerned about what conclusions the younger man might reach about a relatively innocent situation. 

"You make house calls often, Doctor?" Ramsey asked sarcastically, eyes viewing Victor's bared chest with more than a little interest. 

"No," I answered him. "I don't make a habit of it, but, your partner's treatment was interrupted by an emergency this afternoon and I wanted to stop in this evening and try to finish up." Directing a stern look toward Vic, I added, "Go ahead and get comfortable on the bed." 

Victor was unable to completely suppress his gasps and groans of pain as he maneuvered himself into a prone position. Ramsey watched the process with, what seemed to me, an excessive amount of interest. His eyes never leaving his 'partner', Ramsey continued our conversation. 

"No kidding?" he jeered, "A real live Good Samaritan, huh?" 

I shrugged. "No. Just a doctor, concerned about his patient's welfare." 

"Yeah, well... Vic _is_ getting a bit on in years, you know, Doc." Mac's tone was a calculated jab, and he seemed to eagerly await his partner's reaction. Everything about him grated on my nerves and I wanted to slap the little bastard silly. But, if Mansfield and this guy were involved in any way, I sure as hell had no right to get in the middle of it—as much as I might like to. 

"Fuck you, Mac," Vic growled into his pillow, his tone one of weary disgust. "Go away. Just... go away. I hurt and I don't want to listen to any of your shit tonight." 

Well, okay, that suggested an answer to that question. Vic showed no interest in or concern about Ramsey's apparent jealousy. Though I tried to squash it, I couldn't totally suppress the little glow of satisfaction that came with this realization. Granted I'd just met the guy, but I'd already decided Vic was a man I could enjoy knowing. 

A man I could enjoy fucking. 

_Hold up there, Dave_ The man had stated quite clearly that while he was bisexual, he didn't venture into the male/male thing any more. 

What a damned shame. 

Pout fully in evidence, Ramsey retreated reluctantly to the connecting door. "Um, Vic... if you wanna go get something to eat later, give me a yell, okay?" 

Vic sighed deeply, his bare shoulders rising and falling. He carefully shook his head and risked a glance in Mac's direction. Even that slight movement caused him to wince and suck in a pained breath. "Not tonight, Mac. I'm gonna let the Doc do his best—then I'll probably just lay here and die." 

"Well," Ramsey paused halfway out of the room and glared at me. "If you need anything, Vic—anything at all...." 

"Yeah, fine. Thanks, Mac." Vic waved him off with a languid flap of one hand, then settled himself back into the pillows. 

I watched impassively, hiding my sense of triumph pretty successfully, I thought, as Ramsey left the room, pulling the door closed behind him. I was staring after him, puzzling out the strange relationship these men seemed to share when Vic's gravely voice drew my attention. 

"Dave, I think maybe you should lock that," he said quietly. "Mac's kind of impulsive and very... well, he's a sneaky bastard, and I wouldn't put it past him to come back—just to make me crazy." 

I crossed and threw the deadbolt, well-satisfied by the loud clicking sound it made. Let the pouter chew on that. I kept my thoughts about his 'partner' to myself , though. If Mansfield hadn't yet figured out that the younger man wanted him in the worst way, hell, _I_ sure wouldn't be the one to tell him. 

* * *

As I lay there breathing deeply and trying to ignore the sense of anticipation that raised gooseflesh on my skin, I came to a reluctant realization. This was not gonna work. In a big way! 

Even though my face was buried in the pillow, I could sense his every move. My newly acquired 'Dave Radar' tracked him as he locked the connecting door then moved over to table. The rasp of a zipper jolted through my system like a bolt of lightning, setting my heart pounding so hard and fast that I almost missed the ensuing rattling and clinking. 

The backpack. He was getting supplies out of the backpack. One mystery solved. 

I was glad for the protection of the accommodating pillow as my face burned with embarrassed heat. God, what I'd thought—what I'd hoped—when I'd heard that zipper.... 

Almost silently, Dave returned to the bed and perched gingerly on the edge of the wide mattress. "Okay, I've got some oil here so it will be more comfortable for you while I try to release some of those knots. Just try to relax and let me do the work." 

Giving a non-committal grunt, I waited tensely for the first touch of Dave's hands. I hoped I could manage not to flinch or gasp or anything else equally embarrassing. I knew that I was in deep trouble when the scent of the massage oil reached me. Eucalyptus or juniper I could've handled just fine, even sandalwood, though that particular fragrance had bad associations from a misspent youth. But this oil had mainly the aroma of lavender in it. Tasmanian lavender. 

My nerves thrummed and my cock hardened impossibly more. I'd had this lover, you see, years ago, and he used to burn Tasmanian lavender when we... Well, you get the picture. 

When Dave grasped my shoulders with warm, slippery hands, I jerked like I'd been poked with a live wire. So much for my image of calm. 

"Sorry, were my hands cold?" Dave questioned in a soft, intimate voice that did nothing for my self-control. "I thought I'd warmed them enough." 

"S'okay," I mumbled, not really answering the question. 

Trying desperately to ignore the strong hands that were gently working across my tense back and neck, I mentally scolded myself in as stern a voice as I could manage. I ran through the 'he's a professional doing his job' argument, I reminded myself that 'I wasn't interested in men anymore', I even chided myself for my 'lack of control'. I tried every trick in my little mental book of distraction. When finally even an image of the Director sitting on the bed didn't calm me, I groaned in frustration. 

"This isn't working, Dave," I mumbled into the pillow. 

"I know," he responded, "you're still hard as a rock. You really need to relax." 

_Hard as a rock. Oh, God..._

"Sorry, it's not you," I groaned. "Well, actually that's not quite true. It's the damned lavender—and your hands," I confessed, face still buried in the pillow. God, I couldn't remember the last time I'd blushed this much. "I just don't think 'relaxing' is on the agenda." 

Dave sat back, letting his hands still to lay on my shoulder blades. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Plan B it is, then." He rose from the bed. "Wait here a sec—I'll be right back." 

Yeah, right. Like I was gonna move now. My muscles were tied up in such knots that I honestly don't think I could've gotten to my feet if a gang of armed assassins had come calling. Besides, I had a boner the size of the Space Needle and wasn't particularly interested in displaying it to my health care provider. So, I lay there listening curiously as he moved back to his bag then went into the bathroom. Water ran for a moment and I wondered what in the hell he was going to torture me with next. 

Back at my bedside again, Dave rummaged behind the table for a moment. Painfully, I managed to turn my head enough to see that he was plugging in a heating pad. 

Okay, I could handle that. Maybe without his oh so talented hands giving my overactive libido yet more unneeded stimulation, I would manage to relax a little bit. 

"Vic, I want you to turn over now." 

_Oh shit_

I shook my head, then gasped in pain as a particularly nasty muscle spasm hit. "Fuck!" I protested. "I can't, Dave... Please don't make this any har- um, more difficult for me." 

He slapped my rump rather forcefully. An action that sent an erotic jolt straight to my cock. Damn, my libido had the bit between its teeth and was in full runaway mode. 

"Victor, listen to me... I _am_ going to help you here. You've become a challenge. And," I could hear a smile in his voice, "I should warn you that I'm very competitive. Absolutely hate to lose. So, do as I say and turn over." 

I didn't move. 

He sighed. "Dammit, man. I know you're hard. I know that's the major problem at the moment. Just let me take care of you, okay?" 

Oh, jesus! Whatinthehell was he proposing? 

The possibilities flying past my mind's eye were only serving to make me harder. I shifted my hips restlessly, needing ... 

"Look, ah... how about if you help me up and I'll take a hot shower?" I offered desperately. "That should help my back a little and I can, uh ..." My voice trailed off in helpless embarrassment. 

"Jack off?" he asked in an amused tone. "You try to stand up in a shower and do that and you'll end up in traction, friend. You know it as well as I do." 

This habit he was exhibiting of reading my mind and being vastly amused by what he found there was getting a little old. "Dammit, Dave. I can't just let you—" 

He snorted, scornful of my objections. "Shut up, Vic." Placing one gentle hand on my hip and one on my shoulder, he carefully rolled me over to my back—and onto the heating pad he'd conveniently put next to me. 

God, it felt good. I might have even been able to enjoy it—if not for the erection doing its level best to burst through my zipper and the extremely noticeable wet spot forming around the button of my jeans. 

Had anyone ever actually died of shame, I wondered. 

He sat looking down at me with a slight frown on his brow. "How long has it been, Vic?" 

"Years," I replied, unable to pretend to misunderstand the question. Keeping my eyes turned to the side, looking anywhere but at him, I continued, "Last time I was with a man was when I was with Vice... at least 5 years, I guess." 

"With Vice?" His eyes widened at that. "You're a cop?" 

Hah. Finally, I'd managed to surprise him. "Not anymore. I work for a ...hell, Dave, I work for a Canadian Black Ops Unit." What the fuck? I mean, it wasn't like the guy was gonna betray me to the enemy. 

Sitting back a bit, he stared at me, eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess that explains the blackmail concern. And your fitness level." 

My eyes snapped to lock on him at that comment. Dave grinned as he met my gaze, then allowed his eyes to wander over my chest. "You are, you know ... quite fit." 

Holy hell. His eyes were worse than his hands. I could easily drown in those hazel depths and as his gaze visually caressed my prone form, I could almost feel his touch on my skin. My cock pulsed visibly and he grinned at me, letting one of his hands travel down to rest atop my zipper. 

"You don't think I'm a spy, do you?" 

"A what?" I stared up at him startled by the incongruous question. Forcing my sluggish brain to function on a seriously insufficient blood supply, I rasped, "No, of course not." 

"So," his hand moved ever so slightly, pressing along my hardened cock, "if I don't tell anyone, and you don't tell anyone ..." He shrugged. "No harm, no foul. Right?" 

* * *

Vic licked his lips—something he really shouldn't have done if he wanted to get my mind off sex—and swallowed heavily. "I want you, Dave," he admitted. "You know that I do—haven't exactly made a secret of it. But, damn, this just feels too weird. I can't just lay here like some 'john' and let you 'service me'." 

Ah. Hit a few nerves from his days in Vice, perhaps. 

If he'd been willing to be still, I could have brought him some relief with little effort on the part of either of us. His insistence on active involvement brought up a whole new set of problems. Given his painful condition, this promised to be rather difficult, logistically speaking. 

I wasn't even letting myself consider the ethical problems of this situation. I had no business even contemplating sex with a patient. The fact that we were in his hotel room, rather than my office, was merely a matter of semantics. I was using my chiropractic skills to relieve his pain—that made him a patient. 

My own almost overwhelming arousal was screaming louder than my professional ethics, however. As much as I hate to admit it, what they say about men is true. We _are_ largely lead through life by our cocks. And right now mine was urging me to figure out a way to do this without hurting Vic too much. I could see that as badly as he needed to get off, he wouldn't let this happen unless he was convinced that the attraction was a mutual thing—that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. 

I considered the situation; there _had_ to be a way ... 

I stood and began unbuttoning my shirt. Toeing off my shoes, I moved back to the bed and carefully climbed over until I was straddling Vic's body. I hovered there, on my hands and knees, staring intently down into his emerald eyes. 

"Okay, Vic. This is gonna be tricky." I ran one finger along his cheek and smiled reassuringly. "You have to promise me that you'll tell me if this gets to be too painful." Hoping a little humor would loosen him up, I added, "After all, how would you explain to your partner that the chiropractor's treatment put you in traction?" 

He just rolled his eyes and groaned at the thought. 

I continued to lean over him so that he could easily see my face, and waited. I wanted him to see that I was sincere and I wanted him to make his own decision about this. Finally, he looked back into my eyes. After a few seconds, he seemed reassured by what he saw and his solemn expression was lightened by a small curving of his lips. 

"All right, doc. How are we going to do this, then?" 

Smiling back to show him how pleased I was at his decision, I replied, "Very carefully, Vic. You're not going to move at all. I will do the work... this time." 

"Oh." His lashes fluttered appealingly as he considered my words. It was clear he understood I wanted there to be a 'next time'. A broad, beaming smile breaking over his face, he glanced flirtatiously up at me through those unbelievably thick lashes. "Okay then. You're the doctor." 

Stunned by the sheer beauty of his smile, I froze in place for several breaths. Jesus, with a smile like that he could have any damned thing he wanted. Lucky he hadn't flashed it at me in the office—my professional ethics would have crumbled at the mere sight and I'd have fucked him into the floor on the spot. Okay, maybe considering his pain level I'd have used the hydraulic table, but I definitely would have nailed him then and there. 

I shook away my daze and climbed off of him. "First, I think fewer clothes would be good." 

Suiting action to words, I quickly stripped. My breathing quickened as Vic watched closely, green eyes glittering with approval. Enjoying the rush I got from the feel of his hot eyes on my naked body, I walked to the bathroom and grabbed a couple of towels. Crossing back to the bed, I began to roll one of the larger ones. 

"Now," I said, holding his head up with one hand, "I'm gonna get rid of this pillow and support your neck with these towels." 

Apparently, now that his decision had been made and I'd shown my own desire for him, Vic was perfectly happy to lay quiescent while I arranged him on the bed. Once his neck was a well braced as I could manage with the towels, I sat back take in the view. 

He took my breath away. His pale skin, from cheeks to belly, was flushed with arousal and the dusky nipples were tight and erect. His upper body was obviously strong, with broad shoulders and well-developed arms. I didn't know what a 'black ops' agent did, but it obviously required him to keep in top shape. I very much approved. 

And those eyes! As gorgeous as I found the rest of him, I couldn't help being drawn again and again to those amazing eyes. Eyes that sexy and green should be illegal. 

"Dave," he murmured softly. 

The words dragged my attention from his eyes down to his full, kissable lips. As if feeling the weight of my stare, Vic flicked out a wet pink tongue, moistening his lips with almost feline grace. "Huh?" I answered intelligently. 

"Dave," he repeated, this time in a sharper, firmer tone. It was enough to remind me of my plans for this man and to bring me out of my fugue. "Are you going to get these fucking jeans off me soon? Before they cause me permanent damage... please." 

Oh yeah. I could definitely do that. Stroking the smooth skin of his torso, my fingers teased the soft line of downy hair that arrowed down from his navel to disappear tantalizingly into the waistband of his jeans. He sucked in his stomach and growled at me impatiently. 

"Dave," he moaned, "Enough already. Get these things off of me... I think my circulation's been cut off." 

His discomfort had become pretty damned obvious and although I was enjoying my leisurely inspection of his body I took pity on the poor guy. Unsnapping his jeans, I pulled the zip down very carefully over his straining erection. Vic sighed with relief as the constriction eased and made as if to raise his hips so I could slide the jeans off. 

"No," I ordered firmly. "You. Stay. Still." 

With a wince, he did as I directed. Rather prettily, too. Nice to know he could take an order in the right setting. Every time he showed his submission, my pulse—and my cock—leapt. I'd been a little worried about that whole top/bottom thing, to tell the truth. This one was a bit difficult to read; he didn't exhibit the classic signs of a sub—well, he hadn't until now. I'd lost more than one potential lover when my own need to be firmly in control became evident. 

Carefully, I pulled his jeans and jockeys past his hips and down the length of his legs. Once the garments were in my hands, I was unable to resist. I pressed my nose against the wet spot and inhaled deeply. God, what a rush. There was nothing I loved better than the smell of an aroused man—- and this one smelled better than most. 

Watching me bury my face, with obvious enjoyment, into his pants caused Vic's green eyes to round like saucers. and his straining cock to twitch enticingly. It was all I could do to suppress an evil chuckle at his reaction. He was just too cute. 

Ready to move on to the source of that delectable odor, I tossed the clothing aside with no regard to where it landed. Taking a moment, I paused to admire the beauty of what I'd just revealed. Damn, the man was hard. His erect cock sprang from a forest of dark curls and was a healthy length and girth, yet still managed to look somehow elegant. His hard-on strained upward, curving away from his belly and, as I watched, another drop of precum dripped from the head to pool on his skin. Judging from the ruddy, almost purple color, I suspected he'd been sporting one degree or another of this painful erection since leaving my office. 

* * *

God above, if the man didn't _do_ something soon... "Dave," I murmured, reaching one hand out to him. "You coming to bed, or are you just going to stare at me until I come?" A significant pause. "'Cause that's a very real possibility." 

Smiling a smile that made me more than a tad nervous, Dave took my hand in his and moved to straddle me again. Holding most of his weight off of me with his strong thighs, he sat on my belly. Stroking his way up my other arm, he took charge of that hand too and pulled both of my arms firmly to my sides. "Remember the rules, Vic?" he whispered with an encouraging smile. "No moving... you tell me if you're hurting. Can you do these things for me?" 

He didn't seem to expect a verbal response. Good thing. Because my ability to do anything more than gasp for breath and gaze up at him in desperate need had totally disappeared. 

He smiled that small smug smile again. A part of me, a tiny, somewhat rational part that was just barely staying aware under the flood of arousal, suspected that at almost any other time that smile would piss me off. It was just so... so... certain. Like he was completely in control and well aware that we both knew it. Like his dominance in this situation was a forgone conclusion and could be taken as a given. 

When in my right mind, there are few things I hate more than being taken for granted. 

Hovering just above me, Dave teased me with his body, gradually sliding his knees back and lowering himself until he was almost, but not quite, touching me from shoulders to thighs. I wanted so badly to just arch up the tiniest bit, to feel his skin against mine, to let my hungry cock brush against his matching erection. The invisible bonds of his words kept my hips firmly on the bed, though. 

I couldn't take the chance, you see. He just might back out of this if I didn't obey him. I didn't know if it was his physician's concern that I not cause myself any pain or that fact that the man was obviously a top, but he was still watching my reactions carefully, judging my willingness to follow the rules he had set. And for some weird reason I really didn't want to examine too closely, I found I wanted to please him—needed to make him proud of me. I could do this, I resolved, exactly as he wanted. 

With a sigh, I lowered my eyes from his intense hazel gaze and waited. My body had started to tremble with the tension of restrained need when we finally touched. After what felt like hours his hips lowered just enough to let our hard cocks lightly bump against each other. Sucking in a shocked breath at the intensity of the sensation, I was almost overwhelmed by the following wave of barely remembered emotion. There it was. That sense of satisfaction I'd only ever known when submitting to another man. It was such a warm, safe and incredibly erotic feeling to give in, to let someone else lead the dance. It seemed I always took care of everyone else. In this, I knew that I could let Dave take care of me.... That he could make me submit without ever making me feel less than a man. 

And suddenly I was frightened. Not of him, but of myself. If I let this happen, he would bring it all back, all the sensations and emotions I'd worked so hard to lock out of my conscious memory. If I let myself sample this forbidden fruit, how would I ever be able to return to the safety of strict heterosexuality? 

I closed my eyes and made a low noise of protest in my throat. 

"What?" He instantly pushed himself up on his arms, removing all weight from my body, and looked down at me in concern. "Vic, look at me. Did I hurt you? Tell me what's wrong?" 

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, I reasoned with myself. _Okay, you can do this. Ignore the emotions, just go with the sensations. It doesn't have to mean anything._ It was a hollow argument and I didn't believe it for a minute. 

_Okay, so I can't do this. Tell him something, anything. Lie to him. Just get him the hell out of here._

Slowly opening my eyes, I met the warm concern in his questioning gaze. And that quickly the lies died unspoken. With a small, internal wail of distress, I realized I could only ever tell this man the truth. "I'm...you're... it's just... it's been so... long, Dave." I struggled with the words, with the need to protect myself, which was fighting a losing battle with the need to be honest. "I told you I haven't been with a man in years, that I didn't 'do' this anymore." I fought to calm my erratic breathing while Dave continued to stare patiently into my eyes. 

"I've worked so very hard to forget how this feels." Looking away, I swallowed and blinked. "You scare me. I scare myself when I'm with you. The way you make me feel—the things you make me remember... I'm afraid that I won't be able to go back after this. And that could be very dangerous for me—and my partners." I risked a quick glance at him, needing some hint of his reaction. 

A slight frown creased his forehead and he slipped to one side, laying beside me, just barely touching the right side of my body with his warmth. I could feel that he wanted me to look at him, almost compelling me to meet his gaze again, but I couldn't do it. Couldn't risk seeing disgust and disappointment chill what had been a look of warm admiration. 

"Look, Vic," he finally sighed, "I can't make this decision for you. Not my style. Obviously, I am a top man—but, I like my partners willing. I don't play those sorts of dominance games. I won't force you. I know there's a certain freedom in being able to see yourself as without choice—you can look back after the fact and say, 'I didn't want that; he made me'. But I refuse to give you that out. You have to make up you own mind, _you_ have to decide what you want and take responsibility for that decision." 

Even though I knew his words made sense, even though that small rational corner of my brain was telling me he was doing the right thing, the responsible thing, I found myself wishing he was a man with far fewer scruples. This was not helping that knot of fear in my gut the least bit. 

"Oh shit, Dave—that's the problem," I groaned. "I want you—you know how badly I want you. You'd have to be blind and deaf not to know that by now. It's just that... I guess I'm afraid. Afraid that I'll...that once I'm home again, I won't be able to give this up. That I won't be able to control this ... craving, and I'll go out looking for someone else to give me this, go looking for another you." 

There was a long moment of thoughtful silence, then Dave reached out and took a gentle hold on my chin. Embarrassed by the way I flinched at the contact, I allowed the small pressure to turn my face to his. His eyes were not cold like I'd feared. In fact, the only things I could see in his expression were concern and what looked suspiciously like tolerant affection. 

He shrugged. "Victor, you're a grown man. And, I can't imagine that in your line of work you haven't had to learn some measure of self-control. After all, you did say you haven't been with a man for at least five years, right?" 

"Yeah," I answered, not sure where he was going with this. 

He raised up on one elbow to meet my eyes. "Now, if I remember correctly from your paperwork, you live in Toronto." 

I nodded, then grunted with pain. He carefully eased one hand to the back of my neck and rubbed gently at the protesting muscles. "Shh, you're supposed to keep still, remember?" 

I relaxed as much as I could into his soothing touch and waited to see what he had on his mind. 

"So, You're living in Toronto, I'm in Pittsburgh... I assume that you make a decent wage?" 

Money? He wanted to talk about money? _Now_? "Um, yeah," I finally said. "I do okay and I don't have a lot of expenses." 

He nodded, apparently satisfied with my answer. "You live alone? No wife or girlfriend?" 

"Yeah... I mean no... I mean—Yes, I live alone and no, no wife or girlfriend." What in the hell was he getting at? 

"Okay," he said softly. "Then, let's think about this for a second. You really don't live all that far from me—a very short plane ride, a slightly longer drive. And, we are both adults. Not a couple of horny kids who need constant 'togetherness' to make a relationship work." 

The light was beginning to dawn and suddenly, I felt better. My fears were starting to recede as I considered the implications of what he was saying. 

"Just ask Mac," I joked. "He'd be more than happy to tell you at great length just how 'grown-up I am. Boringly 'adult', in fact. Like an old fart of an uncle." 

"I do not want to talk about your partner right now, Victor. In fact, I don't even want to think about him." 

He delivered this in a level tone, but his eyes.... They clearly stated he hadn't appreciated Mac's interruption and had liked his attitude even less. Damn, I sure as hell wouldn't want to be Mac if this guy ever let loose on him. 

"Okay," I grinned at him. "I have no problem with that. So, where are you heading with the twenty questions thing, Dave?" 

He shifted a little closer to me and I shivered as his warm breath caressed my face. "Well, I was thinking that if this goes as well as I'm sure it will, we could get together occasionally in future. I know long distance relationships are difficult to maintain, but, I think we could do it, Vic. If we wanted to badly enough." 

"Yes," was all I could manage in response. God! Did he... _could_ he really mean it? 

His head dipped down and he laid a trail of nibbling kisses along my jawline. "I want you, Vic. You make me feel a little like a horny teenager, in fact. And, I really don't think that once or twice will satisfy me. I've not been so attracted to anyone for quite some time now, and I really think this could work for us." 

How did he do that? It was as if he'd sensed the core of my uncertainty and soothed fears I hadn't even admitted to myself. 

* * *

I felt some of the tension drain out of the body I rested against and looked up to see his tiny scowl ease. As I watched, the green of his eyes changed gradually from the shadowy gray-green of deep forest shadows to the verdant emerald of a sun-kissed clearing. He just looked...I don't know...happier. I wasn't really sure what, exactly, I'd said to bring that particular expression onto his face, but I resolved to figure it out as soon as possible. Because I was determined to see that look again. And again. 

I lay there and stared, lost in admiration, until Vic shifted impatiently and raised one hand to touch my thigh. 

"Dave?" 

Oh. Yeah. I blinked and shook myself out of my introspection. He was waiting for me. Waiting for me to make the next move, to advance this seduction along. 

Now where was I? I allowed my eyes to wander from his gaze down to his mouth. Ah, that mouth. The curved, almost feminine upper lip and the lush, sexy lower. I'd been thinking about his lips for hours now—hell, from the first time I'd seen him. Thinking about how he'd taste...the sounds he'd make... how soft his mouth looked... how inviting. 

With a sigh of anticipation, I leaned closer. I was so near I could feel the heat of his breath on my lips and I knew he must feel the same. Unable to resist, I poked out the tip of my tongue and delicately traced it along the bow of his upper lip.... Then sat erect once again with a scowl on my face. 

"Vic, what did I tell you?" I demanded sternly. 

Those emerald eyes stared up at me in puzzled confusion, the luscious mouth gently parted and gleaming in anticipation. "Huh? What?" His tone was as dazed as his expression. 

"I asked you a question." I waited. 

The thick black lashes rose and fell as he blinked several times, clearly trying to get his brain back on track. But after more than a minute, no answer was forthcoming. 

With a long-suffering sigh, I expounded, "About moving. What did I tell you about moving?" 

Another long pause. "Umm, not to?" 

"Right. And what did you just do?" 

"God, Dave, I don't know!" He was clearly starting to get annoyed. "But you seem to so why don't you let me in on it." 

I allowed my features to fall into harsh, angry lines. I wasn't really that mad, but he had to learn how to follow orders—my orders—if this was going to work. I waited until the pique drained out of his expression to be replaced with a certain impatient contrition. Finally I relented and answered his demand. 

"When I leaned down to kiss you, you raised your head up off the bed to meet me. With a neck injury, after being told to stay completely still and let me do all the work, you leaned up to meet me." 

"Umm, sorry?" 

I continued to stare at him, letting my expression tell him that his response was insufficient. 

"Okay, okay," he huffed. "I'm sorry I moved. It's just... you were just ... when you... it felt. Shit!" In spite of the blush that turned his face and throat a glowing crimson, he resolutely met my gaze and stated, "If you don't want me moving, stop being such a tease. You can't expect to lick my lips like that and not have me try to get closer." 

Though I'd intended to keep up my stern front a little longer, I couldn't help the small smile that curved my lips. "So you can't take a little teasing," I questioned in a tone that clearly didn't expect a reply. "You'd rather something like this, perhaps?" 

Then swooping back down I attacked his lips like a starved wolf after a fresh kill. His lips had been slightly parted so I had instant and total access to not just his lips but the depths of his mouth. Thrusting my tongue aggressively past his perfect teeth, I swept across the ridges of his palette then tangled fiercely with his tongue. 

Surprise kept him still for a moment, then he jolted to life with a groan. The next instant his tongue was battling with mine, stroking and wrapping around its mate. When I eased off slightly, pulling my tongue back into my mouth, his followed, thrusting in a not very subtle imitation of the fucking we both desperately craved. 

When the need for air finally forced me to break off the kiss, both our chests were heaving unsteadily. And I was pleased to note that those amazing eyes had acquired a satisfying glaze. 

"Oh god, Dave," Vic groaned, his voice deep and raspy. It was like stroking velvet against the nap and shot an uncontrollable shudder through my nervous system. I spared a few overworked brain cells to hope Vic was a verbal lover; his voice worked on me like the finest aphrodisiac. 

Seconds ticked by while I stared down at the man beneath me, admiring the beauty of his sprawled, obviously aroused figure. Growing impatient, Vic's muscles tensed as if he were preparing to lift himself to demand another kiss. After a second's thought, however, he wisely refrained and just lay there quietly. I was gratified to see he was accepting his role in this particular scenario. His hand was still firmly gripping my thigh and I realized that I'd have a lovely set of finger-sized bruises tomorrow. I grinned, relishing the thought. 

Shifting my weight to the side, I stretched out, settling against Vic and let my hands start to wander. What a responsive lover this man was turning out to be. I just knew that once he'd recovered from this back injury and was able to be more active, I was gonna have my hands full with him. 

I do love a challenge. 

* * *

Oh shit. 

Dave was driving me out of my mind. Dammit, did he have _any_ idea how difficult this 'keep still' bullshit was? And him just laying there beside me, surveying my body like a general planning his next campaign. One finger idly traced over my skin, following the side of my body down to the line where my hip and thigh met. Twitching uncontrollably, I very nearly screamed in frustrated pleasure. I needed serious contact and I needed it now. 

But before I could verbalize my demands, he grinned an evil grin, and set to work with a diabolical focus. 

* * *

I could see Vic was moments away from demanding satisfaction and mentally vowed to nip that minor rebellion in the bud. I was in charge here and would decide when, and how, he received release. 

Turning my attention to his gorgeous face, I used just two fingers of one hand to stroke along the bony edge of his square jaw and down to the smooth skin of his neck. From there, I trailed into the hollow at the base of his throat. I lingered, feeling and watching his rapid pulse throb, close to the surface and somehow strangely vulnerable. Unable to resist, I leaned in, replacing my fingers with the warm caress of my tongue. Vic's gasp was harsh and shook his whole body. 

Smiling smugly at that response, I continued to lick and, finally, to nibble at this obvious hot spot. When Vic's excitement grew to the point that he could barely contain his twitching and writhing, I moved on down to the strong, defined muscles of his torso. Dragging the slightly rough texture of my evening stubble across his hairless chest, I moved to his right nipple, licking and sucking at the brown nub. Once again, Vic's response was electric. Gasping and sighing and moaning with pleasure, he was a sight to behold. His entire body seemed to be one big erogenous zone. And I hadn't ventured below his waist yet. I knew that dragging out this foreplay when Vic was unable to move or reciprocate was a subtle form of torture, but I couldn't resist. Just by laying there, the man found all my buttons and pushed them over and over. 

* * *

The bastard! Dave knew exactly how insane he was making me—knew and was proud of himself. Though I knew there was little I could do right now but lay there and take it, I vowed to myself that I _would_ have my revenge. Just as soon as my fucking back recovered, I was gonna make him suffer dearly for this little session of erotic domination. 

Then, with no warning whatsoever, he ducked down and engulfed my erection in his warm mouth. 

The shock was like sticking my finger into an electrical outlet. I'm sure I levitated off the bed. He was good—better than good. I'd forgotten how it felt to have a man's mouth on me. The heat, the soft moistness of his mouth—oh, sure, I'd had women go down on me; but only another man could give me this intense, almost painful, pleasure. 

Sucking gently, he worked the underside of my penis with his tongue, pulling back to focus on the crown and then on the weeping slit. Oh lord, he had such a wickedly talented mouth! I raised one shaking hand to his head and restlessly carded my fingers through his hair while praying inwardly for the strength to remain still. I wanted to toss my head; I wanted to arch up into that hot suction. But I knew I didn't dare. 

Oh god, this was gonna be a real test of my will power. 

Then the bastard started to hum. The vibrations reverberated through my cock—hell, through my entire body—and I groaned loudly in agonized pleasure. My last few remaining brain cells suggested I should shut the hell up, they even put forward a valid reason. But some nonsense about someone named 'Mac' overhearing couldn't possibly have rated any lower on my scale of 'things to worry about' at that moment. No, the only things I was truly focused on were Dave, his amazing mouth, and my fear that he'd stop and go back to teasing me. 

Relaxing his throat, Dave swallowed my erection to the root and the hands that had been stroking clenched in his hair. It had to be painful, but he didn't seem to take any notice. Humming and licking and sucking, he redoubled his efforts. 

"Dave," I gasped, pulling on the hair clenched in my hands. "Fuck! That's so good... so good. Don't stop. Please don't stop." 

Of course, he stopped immediately. The rotten bastard. Raising his head, he shot me a demonic grin, his lips and chin glistening with saliva and precum. Just as I was trying to decide whether to use my handfuls of hair to drag him up for a kiss or to force his mouth back to its abandoned task, he bent back down to my groin and zeroed in on my balls. Again, I'd forgotten ... most women pay no attention to that area—I think they just don't realize how sensitive a man's testicles are. But, Dave knew. Oh, how he knew. I'd never come just from having my balls licked, but it was becoming a real possibility here. 

"Fuck," I panted. "Dave, if you keep that up I'll lose it. You've gotta stop." I suppose it was a sign of how far-gone I was that it didn't seem strange I was now demanding that he stop when only moments before I'd been begging him to continue. 

He raised his head and met my eyes. "But Vic, I thought that was the whole point of the exercise," he teased. 

"Not this way ..." I gasped. "Want you to fuck me, Dave. Want it bad." 

Amazingly, his deep hazel eyes seemed to become more intense at my words, smoldering with a fire that made me burn. Oh god, I had to have him. A blowjob just wasn't enough. 

"Please..." I know it was a whine, I know I was begging. But I didn't care as long as it got his cock up my ass, as long as he filled this gnawing ache in my gut. 

When Dave suddenly pushed himself away from me and rolled to a seated position on the side of the bed, my heart almost stopped. Was he mad? Leaving? Disgusted? What? If it would prevent him from leaving, I'd happily settle for the blowjob. Then I realized he was muttering under his breath. Once I figured out what he was saying, I relaxed back into the mattress in pleased anticipation. 

* * *

"Condoms and lube. Condoms and lube. Where the fuck did I leave the condoms and lube." 

Battling to drag a little blood back up from my cock to my brain, I perched on the side of the bed, chest heaving while I struggled to remember whether I'd thought to bring the necessary supplies. 

Just as I was getting ready to ask Vic if he had any, my darting gaze fell on the abandoned backpack. Yes! In a moment of extreme optimism I'd thrown a few packets and a relatively new tube of lubricant in the backpack along with the massage oil, cold packs and heating pad. 

Lurching across the room, I whispered a heartfelt, "Thank you, lord," and, grabbing the inoffensive bag, upended its contents across the table. Snatching up a handful of the foil packets and the tube of gel, I turned triumphantly back to my waiting lover. 

Vic grinned at me when he saw the items I clutched in my hands. "Finally," he husked, his voice a raspy whisper. "Thought you were gonna tease me all night." 

That voice of his—god, it was like smoky rooms and neat whiskey. It sent a thrill straight down to my cock. I caught my breath and closed my eyes, desperately trying to keep my ever increasing need under control. While I wanted nothing more than to fuck him fast and hard, I knew that he just couldn't take it—not in his current condition. Besides, this was my show. I was in charge here, something I could not allow him to forget if I wanted this relationship develop along the lines I envisioned. 

_Control, Dave. Control. Take a few deep breaths. You can do this_

Once I'd calmed myself—as much as possible given the circumstances—I crossed back to the bed. I felt a little silly, my throbbing, weeping cock pointing the way like the bowsprit on a ship. But the blazing hunger in Vic's eyes soon convinced me he saw only things he liked. Reaching out to catch the hand Victor beckoned me with, I sat on the bed's edge and studied this fascinating man. 

Caressing his inner wrist with my thumb, I tried to bank the lust I knew must be written all over my face. As much as I wanted to do this, I wanted to cause him pain that much less. "I think that we'll have to do this on our sides," I informed him in as stern a tone as I could manage, "I can't think of any other position that won't hurt you." 

He swallowed heavily. "Whatever you want, Dave... however you want." 

His easy acquiescence surprised me somewhat, but I wasn't about to delve into it too deeply. Not right now, not when I was moments away from finally getting what I so dearly wanted. I nodded. "Okay then... roll on your side and I'll rearrange the towels so that you don't put too much strain on your neck." 

Carefully, Vic shifted over onto his right side and I refolded the towels to brace his head. "How's that?" I asked. 

"Fine, fine," he responded in a strained voice, clearly in pain. 

_Yeah, right._ Truthfully, I think he wanted to get fucked so badly at this point that he'd have claimed he was comfortable on a bed of nails. I could sympathize with his feelings. 

Quite obviously while the towels had been fine while he was on his back, they were too thin and didn't offer enough support once he'd moved to his side. I frowned in thought... Ah, my eyes spotted the pillows I'd tossed aside earlier. 

"Here," I said, grabbing a couple of the thin ones. "Let's try this—I think if we fold these over, they should keep your neck at a better angle. Now just relax and let me do the work." Taking the weight of his head in one hand, I removed the towels and arranged the pillows in their place. "That should help." 

He sighed and relaxed into the soft support. "Yeah," he agreed. "That's better. Now, are you gonna fuck me or are we gonna talk about proper spinal alignment all night?" 

I laughed. Couldn't help it. He was a delight and that impatient "are we there yet" type comment just tickled my funny bone. 

Climbing into the bed, I pressed my body against his length, sighing happily when my erect cock settled between his ass cheeks. Leaning up, I placed my lips very close to his ear and whispered, "Oh but Vic, sometimes proper 'alignment' can be so very important." The shudder that coursed through his body was very gratifying. 

* * *

The man was trying to kill me. There was no other possible explanation. First that sexy bedroom whisper in my ear about alignments, then a deep throaty chuckle at the shiver of excitement I couldn't suppress. Yup, it was a simple matter of time. I was gonna stroke out before we ever got to the good stuff. 

I felt Dave shift again behind me then his lips and teeth began to torment the nape of my neck, following the muscles down to my shoulders. Within moments, it seemed as if every nerve I possessed was focused on what he was doing there. Then he pulled a sneak attack. 

Without any advance warning, warm and slippery fingers were stroking the length of my crease and teasing over my anus. 

"God, yes. More." I knew I should be embarrassed at the needy desperation of that groaned request but at that moment I couldn't spare any concern for my pride. If I didn't get some part of him, any part of him, inside me right away, I was going to loose my mind. 

But the rotten SOB didn't pay any attention. He merely continued to stroke the slick onto me, rubbing gently against my most sensitive areas as if he had all the time in the world. I was incredibly frustrated with his teasing, was, in fact, seconds away from yelling, screaming, and throwing myself on him, demanding satisfaction. The only thing that kept me still was the memory of the gut-clenching fear I'd felt when he'd leaped out of bed to find the condoms. For a second I'd thought he was leaving because I wasn't following his directions well enough. Experiencing that moment of pure panic once was plenty—I didn't dare make any movement now that might make him stop. Summoning all my self-discipline, I held still and did my best to just relax into his teasing caresses. 

"Oh god, Dave," I said huskily. "Please, please .. _do_ something." It was a risk, but I figured as long as I stayed still, he couldn't really hold begging against me. 

"Hush," he murmured in my ear. "We'll get there, Vic. But, we have to take it slow; five years is a long time, babe, and I want this to be perfect... So, let me do this my way, okay?" 

I groaned, knowing he was right. Hating that he was right. I wanted him inside of me and I wanted it now! I sighed and relaxed back against him. "Okay, Dave... just, don't make me wait too long. I want you to fuck me. I want it so much it almost scares me." 

He pressed himself more tightly against my back. Clever fingers stroked my anus, continuing to awaken long-ignored nerve endings. Oh god, it was wonderful. 

But, as good as it was, I wanted more. "Please," I whispered. "Dave, I need to feel you inside me—need it so bad." 

Ever so slowly, teasingly, he slipped the tip of one finger into me. "That what you want, Vic? Does it feel good?" 

I whimpered. "More," I begged. It did feel good, but it was so much less than I needed. Though I tried to control the impulse, I couldn't stop my hips from pushing back onto the invading digit, driving it deeper within me. "Ah, yes, that's it," I moaned as he inserted another finger. I tried to start a rocking motion, one that would push those fingers into me and massage the areas deep inside that were screaming for stimulation, but the bruising grip of his other hand on my hip dissuaded me from that plan. 

As soon as he sensed my surrender, he released his hold on me and returned to his preparations. Ever so carefully, he opened me up, scissoring his fingers to loosen that tight ring of muscle guarding my entrance. All the while, he nibbled at my neck and shoulders, murmuring his approval of my ability to do as he'd asked and remain still. 

Feeling him reach ever further inside of me, my breathing quickened and my heart rate increased. I just knew he'd find that spot—

Yes! He twisted his fingers and I felt an electrical shock run through my body as he found my prostate and pressed gently. 

"Dave," I panted, "I'm ready. God, I'm _so_ ready. Please, won't you fuck me now?" 

"Well, since you ask so nicely...." He withdrew his fingers and I could hear the unmistakable sound of a condom being opened. A moment later, I felt his sheathed cock nestling between my ass cheeks. 

Beyond words now that my extreme need was about to be answered, I sighed shakily and concentrated on relaxing myself to make his entrance as smooth and easy as possible. God, I wanted this. And now, finally—after all of the doubts and hesitations—it was going to happen. 

With a gentle, steady pressure, Dave slowly entered me. I caught my breath at the long-forgotten sensation of almost-but-not-quite-pain. Carefully, he rocked his hips against me, burying himself a bit deeper with each movement. 

Once his cock was fully within me, he paused and reached around me to stroke my chest. "You okay?" he murmured. 

Beyond words at the moment, I sighed my approval and—taking a huge chance—pushed back against him, encouraging him to get on with it. 

"Impatient, huh?" he teased. "Give me just a minute here, Vic. You're so hot and tight... I don't want this to be over before it's begun." 

Tentatively, he pulled out partway and slid back in. "Oh fuck," he groaned. "This isn't gonna last long—I... it's ..." 

I tightened my anal muscles around him and he hissed. "Jesus, Vic, give a guy a break here, would you?" 

"No," I insisted. "Fuck me, Dave... Now!" 

* * *

So I did. He begged so prettily, I just couldn't resist. Rocking my hips in smooth, easy glides, I luxuriated in the sensations. God, he was like velvet inside, and so very tight around my cock. There was no way I was going to be able to make this last—after all of the build-up, I was just aching to come. But in spite of that, this was not going to be just for me. I was damned if I was going to come in his ass then end up sucking him off after I'd caught my breath. He was coming along with me—I wanted to hear him scream my name as his orgasm tore him apart. 

I knew he was getting his fair share of enjoyment out of our joining. Every time I pushed into his heat, a very gratifying moan or sigh escaped him and I was finding those little sounds, gasped in that husky voice, wildly exciting. I could happily listen to this all day. 

We were generating some body heat between us and his back was slick with droplets of sweat. I just had to taste him and ducked my head to run my tongue along the top of his shoulder. 

Mmm, marvelous—salty and musky and spicy. 

I could easily get addicted to him. 

Too easily. 

Thinking, perhaps, that I was too involved in fucking him to notice, Vic furtively reached down to touch his own erection. I quickly put a stop to that. Knocking his hand aside, I replaced it with my own and couldn't help but grin at his satisfied gasp of approval. 

"Oh, fuck, Dave," he whimpered. "So good... god, that's good." His hips rocked just the tiniest bit as he strove to deepen the contact—I don't even think he was aware of his movements. I decided to let it slide as I was feeling so generous in my own pleasure. Tightening my grip on his hardness, I shifted my hips just so and had to bite my lip at his anguished moan when my cock stroked his prostate. 

God, the man's voice alone could bring on an orgasm. 

"Oh yeah," he sighed. "That's it... that's perfect." 

He shuddered and his muscles tightened around me once again. It was the final straw, just too damned much stimulation. I couldn't resist—my control had gone out the window and I started to fuck him in earnest, moving my hand on his cock in a matching rhythm. 

It was heaven and hell combined. Panting, I thrust into him forcefully, encouraged by the sounds he was making continuously. 

"God... Yesss... More... Harder ..." 

"Do it, Vic," I urged, my voice husky with need. "Come for me." Increasing the movement of my hand on his cock, I willed him to lose it—wanting nothing else at that moment than the feel of his ass clenching around me in ecstasy. "You're so close, Vic... Let go... I want to feel you—" 

And that did it. With a shout, he tumbled over the edge, his cock pulsing in my hand, his sphincter clamping around me rhythmically. Fuck! I couldn't hold it any longer and felt my own orgasm boil up from my balls, sending streams of semen deep into his body. 

* * *

It could have been seconds or it could have been an hour. All I know is true awareness returned gradually. I don't think I'd actually passed out, but my conscious mind had gone somewhere far away from the slightly tacky hotel room. And I was finding its return nearly as enjoyable as the mind-blowing orgasm that had caused its release. 

Each nerve in my body seemed to tingle with hypersensitivity and the aftershocks of pleasure still vibrated through my bones. Making a conscious effort to slow my heavy breathing, I lay there reveling in the blissful haze and savoring the feel of Dave's warm body pressed against me. His thick cock was still buried deep in my body and though I could feel it softening, the occasional pulses and twitches sent fading sparks through my system. Oh god, I'd been right—no way in hell could I go back to hetsex, not after this. 

About the time my breathing returned to normal and I was starting to feel chilled from the sweat that was drying on my body, Dave stirred. I felt his hand brush against my ass checks as he grasped the top of the condom, then his cock trailed wetly out of my relaxed anus. In what felt like a continuous, fluid motion, Dave rolled to the side of the bed then to his feet. Much to my embarrassment, I was unable to suppress the protesting noise that escaped me at the loss of his comforting hold. 

"Shh, I'm just going to get a towel to clean us up, babe," he reassured me. "Just relax and I'll be right back." 

The fact that I was calmed and comforted by those few words was something I didn't care to examine too closely. 

As promised, Dave was back in short order. He wiped my groin and chest, removing the traces of release that had begun to dry on my skin. Then he cleaned away the lubricant and other signs of our recent joining. Each contact was light and gentle, exercising extreme care around tissues still tender from unaccustomed friction. When finished, he threw the towel back into the bathroom. 

"Now," he said, his voice surprisingly matter-of-fact, "let's see if I can't get your back adjusted. Roll onto your stomach, please." 

With a groan, I did so and he straddled me, settling his hips on my ass. Nice. A little pressure here, a shove there, a few strong compressions with his hands along my spine. A series of popping noises sounded as he made his way down my back. I felt like a box of Rice Krispies, snap, crackle, pop! 

Absurdly, I giggled at the sounds. Dave seemed to find my reaction amusing and he chuckled. "Am I tickling you?" 

Bringing myself under control, I grunted at a particularly strong compression. "No—just a thought. Silly." 

"Mmmm," he hummed noncommittally. 

Climbing off of me, he slapped my ass sharply. "Turn over," he instructed. 

Rolling onto my back, I could once again see my new lover. And what a sight he was. Standing there, entirely nude, hands on his hips while he looked at my positioning with a slight frown on his face. "No, shift around until your head is at the edge of the bed here." 

For several seconds, I didn't move. How could he expect me to keep my mind on a chiropractic adjustment when he was towering over me doing a damned good impression of a centerfold? Dave's pale skin was still slightly lustrous from our recent exertion and it added an attractive pink glow. His hair was rumpled, sticking out strangely in a few places. His cock, while no longer erect, was still rosy and flushed with blood. All in all, he made my mouth water. 

This was definitely a bad sign. 

When his small frown turned into a scowl, I remembered what I was supposed to be doing and gingerly pivoted myself as ordered. Instantly, Dave moved into position and grasped my head firmly between his hands. Perv that I am, I couldn't help but notice that this arrangement put his groin just about at mouth level. The next instant those thoughts were replaced with apprehension as his strong hands swiveled my head back and forth. Expecting pain and not certain what was going to happen, I immediately tensed up. 

"Relax, Vic," Dave admonished in a sexy growl. "Don't use your neck muscles. Let me have the total weight of your head—I won't drop you." 

Making a determined effort, I closed my eyes, blew out a deep breath, and concentrated on going limp. 

"Much better," he crooned. 

Then with two quick turns, Dave popped my neck. The sound was horrifying and there was an instant of sharp discomfort...but that was it. I kept waiting for the debilitating pain to return, but much to my surprise, it didn't. 

"Okay," Dave said, as he continued to hold the weight of my head, "all done. Now move back up onto the bed again and roll over onto your stomach." 

Amazingly, it was almost pain free, this shifting around. This when an hour ago the slight jostling of Dave perching on the edge of the bed had been agony. Damn—It appeared I'd seriously underestimated the therapeutic value of chiropractic care. I watched curiously as he went over to his backpack again and returned with three of those instant chemical cold packs. 

"Here, these will help with the inflammation," he told me as he wrapped them in a clean towel then laid them on my back and neck. Satisfied with the placement, he straightened. "Okay now? Comfortable?" 

"I'd be more happy if you were in this bed with me—other that that, I have no complaints." 

He huffed a laugh then walked to the light switch by the door. "I wasn't planning on going anywhere." A flick of the switch plunged the room into darkness, then I felt the mattress shift as he climbed into the bed beside me. 

"Good night," he said softly, pressing a kiss to my brow. "I'll see you in the morning." 

"Promise?" I asked, not caring if I sounded as needy as I felt. I'd decided somewhere along the way to enjoy this situation and let tomorrow worry about itself for the time being. Very 'Scarlet O'Hara' of me, I know, but what the hell. 

Dave rolled to his side and laid a careful arm across my back. "I promise." 

I sighed happily and allowed sleep to overtake me. 

* * *

Almost asleep, curled comfortably around Vic, a small sound caught my attention. I immediately recognized the tiny click as being out of place. Opening one eye, I scanned the room warily. 

Damned if that sneaky kid-partner-pouter wasn't standing there at the connecting door, peering into the darkened room. Normally, I'd have been tempted to laugh at him. I mean, who wouldn't? 

He really was a sight, mouth open in astonishment, eyes as big as saucers as he took in a sight he obviously hadn't expected to see. I wasn't sure if it was the evidence of Vic having had sex, the fact that his sex partner was a man, or that the man in question was me. But whatever it was, young Mac was clearly stunned and was doing a pretty convincing imitation of a guppy. 

Then he noticed that I was, in turn, watching him. Instantly a shutter fell. Gone was the surprised—- and slightly hurt?—- expression, to be replaced with world-weary nonchalance. He shrugged with obviously feigned carelessness and turned to leave. 

No way. The little shit wasn't going to get away with this kind of nonsense—and now was as good a time as any to explain the facts of life to one Mac Ramsey. Quietly, so as not to disturb Vic, I slipped out of the bed and caught his surprised and wary gaze. 

"We need to talk, Ramsey," I said softly, steel underlying the innocuous words. 

He froze for a second and I could see him consider and discard any number of cutting, scathing comments. Finally, his eyes reluctantly returning to his sleeping partner, Mac nodded agreement and went back into his own room, leaving the door open for me. I located my slacks and pulled them on, but decided to leave my shirt where it was—it looked nice all tangled up on the floor with Vic's discarded clothing. 

Very nice. 

Turning away, I followed Ramsey. The lighting was dim, only one small wattage lamp was burning. Mac was waiting for me in the darkest corner of the room, near the window. Artfully arranged against the night sky, framed by moonlight, he made a very pretty picture. As I'm sure he was not unaware. 

Leaning against the pane of glass with his arms across his chest, his big brown eyes tracked my movements as I crossed to his bed, arranged the rumpled pillows against the headboard and sprawled casually, kind of half sitting, half laying across the full-sized mattress. 

He wasn't the only one capable of setting a stage or conducting a good mind fuck. 

Yawning widely, I rubbed my eyes and smiled at him with sleepy satisfaction. 

"I am really tired. Not used to these late hours." 

I'm sure he thought his carefully controlled expression hid his anger and jealousy from me. Hah. If the young Mac only knew it, his face was an open book. His eyes revealed every bit of his confusion, his dislike of me, and his own frustrated desire for Victor. 

Silly kid. 

And he really was just a kid, I suddenly realized, as I studied his features. I'd put his age at no more that twenty-five. And that was possibly a bit of a stretch. Far too young for the world-weary and slightly damaged man I'd left sleeping in the next room. 

"What the hell kind of a doctor are you, anyway?" He finally spat at me. I'm sure he planned for the comment to sound like a threatening accusation. In reality, it just sounded petulant. "Don't you have any professional ethics at all? Just how many of your patients do you follow home and ..." 

"Fuck?" I inquired mildly. 

His reaction was not quite what I'd anticipated. Not sure exactly what I expected... more anger probably, a flare up of jealousy most certainly. 

Not, however, pain. 

I caught a brief flash of agony in his expressive eyes before he shielded them by looking down to study the carpet with every appearance of rapt fascination. Damn. I didn't _want_ to feel sorry for the arrogant and controlling little SOB. 

But, I did. There was something so lost and confused about his demeanor. He reminded me of Hank. The look my son had carried for so very long after the divorce, as if everything he'd come to count on as a sure thing in his world had just been yanked out from under him. 

"Sit down, Ramsey," I finally sighed, cursing my overly empathetic soft heart. 

After a moment's hesitation, obviously weighing the pros and cons of arguing with me, he shrugged and collapsed into a chair by the window. His eyes avoided me, though. The second time I caught him trying to look at me—apparently unable to handle the sight of his partner's lover in his bed—I took pity on him and climbed to my feet and moved to sit on the chair opposite his. 

"Talk to me, kid. What's the problem here?" 

That got his attention. His eyes flew to meet mine, stunned at my question. "You know damn well what the problem is. You... you came here and took advan—" 

Even he seemed to understand the ludicrous nature of his own comment. He bit off the words and flushed deeply. 

"Listen," I said quietly, "I didn't do anything Vic didn't want me to do. He's a big boy, Mac, and knows how to say no. Now, it's fairly obvious to me that you're attracted to your partner. It's also readily apparent that he either doesn't know or isn't interested. So he let me give him what he needed... what's so wrong about that? We're all consenting adults here. What I want to know is why you have such a problem with Vic having a little comfort and a little happiness. Do you begrudge him that?" 

"No, of course not," he mumbled, still staring at the floor and looking desperately unhappy. 

"So, if that's not it, what is? If I were a woman, would it be this much of a problem?" 

"That would be different," Mac insisted. "I mean... there have been women before and.... Hell, I don't understand it myself—but, Vic seeing women has never been a problem for me. I just... I don't understand..." 

"Don't understand what?" I prodded. 

His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally found the correct words. "Vic's straight." 

I grinned. Couldn't help it. "Mac, Vic is bisexual, always has been. He just hasn't been comfortable about seeing a man since joining this agency you two work for. Said something about blackmail and a barracuda." 

He blanched. "Yeah," he said quietly, "our boss would definitely use that against him. She has enough control over our lives as it is—I can understand why he's kept it hidden." 

"And you?" Curiosity got the best of me and I just had to know if he'd ever actually... 

"Huh?" Not even a clue as to what I was asking. And he was a secret agent of some sort? Canada could be in huge trouble on this one. 

"Well, do you see men?" 

"You mean date?" 

"Yeah." 

He shifted in his seat, once again refusing to meet my eyes. "Um... no. No, I don't." 

"Ever?" 

"Nope." 

"So, why the jealousy over Vic?" 

"I... I'm not sure, really. I mean, I am—but I'm not. You know?" 

Oh yeah. Clear as mud. I sat silently, waiting for him to work it out in his own head. 

"I am—always have been attracted to Victor. But..." 

"But?" I encouraged. 

He rose to his feet and paced across the room for several minutes, a fierce frown marring his pretty face. "I lived on the streets when I was a kid—in Hong Kong." 

Uh oh. 

"And I," he paused and swallowed heavily. "Well, I did what I had to in order to survive. You know what I mean?" 

Shit. I nodded. 

"I got off of the streets when I was twelve. Tried to pick the pocket of a gang boss. He liked my nerve, took me in and raised me as part of his family. But, when I was twenty-three, things changed. He wanted me to get involved with something I just couldn't do—not and live with myself, anyway. We argued, things happened—nasty things—and I ended up in jail." 

"In Hong Kong?" 

"Yeah." 

I winced. 

"Okay... so, you've had no good experiences with men at all." 

He shook his head. 

"But, you're attracted to Vic?" 

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly. "But, I'm afraid to actually _do_ anything about it." 

"So... what's the deal? You don't... can't do anything about your desire so you think Vic should avoid men just in case you ever get the nerve to act on your attraction?" 

"I don't know _what_ I want, Dave. This whole thing has me completely confused. I want him, yes. But, I don't know if I'll ever be able to—" Mac broke off, lost for words. 

I sighed. I was not going to feel sympathy for this guy, and I as sure as hell was not going to like him. But the little shit was sneaking in under my radar. Looked like Doctor Dave had picked up another stray. "Mac, have you had any kind of counseling about your fears? I mean, rape victims and child prostitutes _can_ recover—but, it takes a lot of work." 

"Shit, Dave." Mac looked horrified at the very idea. "If the barracuda caught wind of _that_..." 

Frowning in thought, I rubbed at my lower lip unconsciously. What the hell was I _doing_? Was I actually considering helping the man—a man who so obviously was my rival for Vic's attentions? 

Yes. I was. Unable to resist, I made the offer. "Okay, Mac. If you can't see a therapist, I—jeez, I can't believe I'm saying this—I have some experience counseling sexual abuse victims. How about if we 'unofficially' talk about your past... maybe it would help." 

Mac shook his head in disbelief. "Why would you do that, Dave? You want Vic. Hell, you've _had_ Vic. Why help me when you know I want him too?" 

"Make no mistake, Mac, Vic and I are lovers—and probably will be for the foreseeable future. But, he's not the love of my life—I like the guy, sure. And he's hotter than hell. It won't last forever, though. It can't. So, let's make a deal; you leave off with the jealousy thing, try to become his friend. Hopefully, in the future, you'll come to terms with your past and accept the possibility of a gay relationship. Then maybe, after Vic and I have parted ways—which we will—you and he can... well, if you still want him, maybe you'll be capable of actually doing something about it." 

Collapsing back into his chair, Mac stared across the small table at me. "So, you plan to see him again? This wasn't just a..." 

I sighed. "I don't do one night stands, Mac. Been there, done that—and I always felt unsatisfied and frustrated and angry with myself the next day. And, your partner isn't the fuck and run type either. We plan to see each other in future, yes. But, I want to settle down eventually. You know, little house, picket fence, the whole nine yards. And, I suspect your partner wants the same thing. Given the circumstances, though, it won't happen for us. I've been in love. I was married for seven years. And, I was in a long-term relationship with a man for six wonderful years after that. I know forever when I see it—and I just don't see it for Vic and me." 

Confused and wary, Mac frowned as he considered my offer. Could he stand by and watch Vic and me without going crazy with jealousy? It would be interesting, if nothing else. 

"Can I... Can I get back to you on this, Dave?" He asked hesitantly. "I assume we'll see each other again soon enough." 

"Sure," I shrugged. "I'll be here tomorrow. We'll talk more then." 

"And you won't tell Vic anything about," he waved one arm helplessly, "about this—about me?" 

"No," I promised. "This is strictly between the two of us." 

Relieved, Mac sat back. "Um, okay—we'll talk tomorrow." 

I rose and headed back to Vic's room. 

"Dave?" 

Turning, I raised an eyebrow at Mac in query. 

"Thanks. I know I was a shit earlier—I appreciate you—" 

I waved off the apology. "Don't worry about it, kid. Just, think about my offer. It really might help you if you talk about it with someone. If not me, someone else." 

"Yeah," nodding, Mac smiled slightly. "You're right. And I _will_ think on it." 

"Good." I nodded in farewell and went back in to join Victor. 

Sighing, not really believing I'd just done what I'd done, I stripped off my trousers and climbed back into bed. Vic made a soft sound and rolled to his side, wrapping one arm around my waist and throwing a leg across my thighs. The ice packs slid off, but I'd have removed them soon anyway so I decided to let it go. 

Sleep was not long in coming. I was warm, satisfied, and comfortable. What more could I want for the moment? 

* * *

I very nearly had a heart attack when the phone rang. Groggily, I picked up the receiver. A wake up call. For Dave. 

Dave. 

I turned to look. Sure enough, there he was, hazel eyes smiling at me in greeting. 

"That's for me, Vic. Gotta go home and change before work." He climbed out of the bed and, completely unselfconscious in his nakedness, headed for the bathroom. 

I lay there reliving every pleasurable moment from last night during his brief absence. Damn, it had been good. Better than good, in fact. I sincerely hoped he'd meant that comment about wanting more. God, did I hope it was true. 

Returning, he started pulling on his clothing. "How's the back today?" He asked. 

Tentatively, I turned my head, then flexed my spine. Surprised, I smiled up at him. "Not bad. I think I may live after all." 

He grinned. "I think I should be insulted by that disbelieving tone." 

"It's just that—" 

Waving a hand to stop me, he shook his head. "Teasing, Vic. I was just teasing you." 

I smiled. "Okay. Still—considering how immobile I was before you...adjusted me, I _am_ pretty surprised to feel such a big improvement already." 

"Well, don't get carried away. You overdo it and you'll be right back where you started." 

I groaned. "I promise, doc. I'll be careful." 

"And," he continued, "I'm not finished with you yet. I'll be back tonight to follow up... assuming that's all right." 

I nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely, my dear Doctor. I'll be looking forward to it." 

At that, Dave smiled. Dressed now, he scanned the room looking for forgotten items, then shrugged. "I'll leave the heating pad here—use it." 

"Yes boss." 

Crossing to my side, he bent down to kiss me. "Much as I hate to do it, I've got to get going. I should be back around six or so. What do you say we grab some dinner together?" 

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed enthusiastically. 

"Maybe," he said slowly, "you should invite your partner along." 

"Mac?" I asked incredulously. "You _want_ to have dinner with Mac?" 

"Well," he shrugged, "if you and I are going to be seeing each other, Mac and I had better learn to get along." 

"If you say so." 

He nodded decisively. "I do. Ask him." 

One more kiss, and he was gone. 

I lay back against the pillows and considered the implications. 

_...going to be seeing each other..._

He wanted to 'get along' with Mac. 

Suddenly, I was damned glad I was a klutz with two left feet and blessed the idiot who'd planted the self-same hedge I'd just spent the last week cursing. 

Closing my eyes, I snuggled into the pillows and smiled. Maybe Mac would sleep in for a while, giving me time to savor my memories of the previous night and dream of the night to come. 

* * *

_That's all for now. As promised, there will be at least one sequel—but not yet. I have to finish two other projects first. Jennie_

[email removed]   
[Jennie's Page](http://od-import.transformativeworks.org/terma/chapters/jennie.htm)   


Title: House Call   
Author: Jennie and Jamie Joyce   
Fandoms: Once a Thief/Queer as Folk (American Version)   
Pairing: Vic Mansfield/David Cameron   
Rating: NC-17   
Status: New, complete   
Series/Sequel: Yes, we promise at least one sequel   
Archive: Yes, to NickZone, RatB and WWOMB   
Disclaimers: None of these boys are ours—no money made here—no copyright infringement intended.   
Feedback: Oh, please! [email removed]   
Other websites:   
http://www.squidge.org/~drruthless/jennie/jennieslist.htm   
http://www.e-fic.com/jennie   
http://www.squidge.org/~terma/jennie/jennie.htm   
Notes: Huge thank you to Teri and Sue for the brilliant beta job and to Em, Shael and Jami for comments and encouragement—love to all of you. Summary: Vic gets hurt. Dr. Dave to the rescue. Mac pouts.   
---


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